A Sympathetic Ear
by RavynFayre
Summary: Harry/Ron Slash - Harry has a sympathetic ear, and a possible solution, for Ron's disastrous dating life.
1. Default Chapter

Title: A Sympathetic Ear

Author: RavynFayre

Pairing: Harry/Ron

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: J. K. Rowling owns these boys, not me - which will be quite obvious once you starting reading!

Summary: Harry has a sympathetic ear, and a possible solution, for Ron's disastrous dating life.

Category: Angst/Romance

"I'm sorry," I say, commiserating with him. Again. I know Ron isn't stupid, but he certainly acts like it sometimes. How many of these girls will he have to bring up here before he realizes they don't come here to be with him? I learned long ago to make myself scarce when Ron has a "date", but it's fairly pointless. He's not getting any.

They're here to see me. That's not conceit. It's the truth. There hasn't been a single girl he's asked out who has been interested in him. And the ones who ask him out are even worse. They can't wait to get up to our room, then can't get out fast enough when I'm nowhere to be found. He can't figure out what he's doing wrong.

"It's not you, Ron. It's them." That's also the truth. There's nothing wrong with him. He's the most genuine person I know. A true friend. Brave, even under the most difficult of circumstances. Loyal to a fault.

He's also grown quite attractive over the years. The gangly, awkward pre-teen has faded, and now he's this handsome young man. Hair still as fiery red as ever. Twinkling brown eyes. A smile to light up the world, and a laugh to keep it warm for you.

Any of them would be lucky to have him, if you ask me. He doesn't ask me, though. He just moans and complains that he'll never find the right girl.

//Have you ever thought that maybe it's not a girl you need?//

"Sure you will," I tell him. "You're still young. Give it time."

He's asked me dozens of times to go on a double-date with him. The girl he's seeing always has a friend who's just dying to go out with me. Of course she is, Ron. They all are.

"Relax, Ron. I'm fairly certain you won't die a virgin."

//Actually, I could help you with that . . .//

I once said, only half-jokingly, "Tell you what. If you're eighteen and still a virgin, I'll have sex with you." He turned so red, I was sure he was having a stroke. He didn't bring up that subject again for quite a while.

I always told myself I'd never approach him. I'd leave it up to him to ask. He knows I prefer guys. He even knows I prefer him. I drop the odd hint now and again, just often enough to make him think. I can see the wheels turning as he contemplates my comments. Thus far, he's successfully shrugged them off, chalking them up to my being exhausted from too much Quidditch practice.

"No, Ron, plastic surgery is not an option."

//You're perfect just like you are. Can't you get that through your head?//

"If you fall off your broom onto your face, you're in no position to tell Pomfrey how to reconstruct it. She's just going to put you back together the way you were before."

He's not just being thick. Now, he's bordering on annoying.

You'd think the fact that I haven't had a date in six months, and that I'm always on hand to share his dating disasters, would give him a clue. I swear, he's intent on going through every girl in every year in every house. He exhausted the Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs ages ago. Some of the Ravenclaws were surprisingly well-mannered. The Slytherins haven't been terribly accommodating, but he's quite determined.

Do you have any idea how creepy it was when he started going out with first-, second- and third-year girls? What could a seventeen-year-old boy possibly have in common with an eleven-year-old-girl? All I can come up with is that he shares a bedroom with the wizarding world's Boy Wonder, and they want to get Boy Wonder into bed. It's just wrong, and I told him so. He shied away from them for a while, then went right back. Until there weren't any left.

"Your new robes look fine, Ron. You could probably use a haircut, though."

Huge mistake. Now he's acting like a raving lunatic, convinced he looks like a freak. Thank goodness we can go to Hogsmeade tomorrow and get that little problem taken care of.

I can never be mad with him, though. I just have to tolerate his stubbornness. And the fact that he's blind to what is, literally, right in front of him.

"Wear the black, button-down, long-sleeved shirt your mother gave you last Christmas. It looks great with those jeans."

I have no idea who he's going out with tonight. He doesn't bother telling me anymore. He doesn't want to hear what I think in advance, but he doesn't mind bitching to me about it when it goes bad. And it always does. Ron has a surprising masochistic streak.

"Check my top bureau drawer," I point when he asks to use my cologne. I love how it smells on him. I'll have to get him a bottle for Christmas.

"You look great." //As usual.// Jeans just tight enough in all the right places. Two buttons undone at the top of the shirt. Actually his hair looks good that length; he should probably forego the haircut tomorrow. I smile and he smiles back.

"What do you mean, 'aren't I going to change?' Change for what? Where would I be going?"

//Oh.//

My first date in six months. I wonder if he's planned what we're to do tonight? If not, I have a few ideas of my own. I promise he'll have a good time.

~*~*~*~*~* THE END ~*~*~*~*~*


	2. Ron's Chapter 2

I hadn't intended this to be more than a one-shot deal, but the responses to Chapter 1 were so kind, and, like Lady Rose, I am a Ron ho at heart, I had to let him tell his side of the story. I'm thinking of continuing from here, but with third person POV for the remainder, but I'm not sure.

Title: A Sympathetic Ear, Chapter 2

Author: RavynFayre

Pairing: Harry/Ron

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: J. K. Rowling owns these boys, not me - which will be quite obvious once you starting reading!

Summary: Harry has a sympathetic ear, and a possible solution, for Ron's disastrous dating life.

Category: Angst/Romance

"She said no, as usual," I tell him, as I enter our room. He's lying on his bed reading Quidditch Through the Ages for like the 900th time. I know he has that thing memorized to the point he could recite it verbatim in his sleep. I wonder if he's even listening to me, he hears me complain so often.

I'd been out two nights earlier with a girl from Ravenclaw. I thought everything went okay. At least as okay as they ever do for me. When I asked her out again during lunch today, she looked at me like I was belching slugs.

It's safe to say my dating life leaves a great deal to be desired. Merlin knows, it's not for lack of trying. I've come to the realization that my technique needs a bit of adjustment.

"I've been thinking about this all afternoon, and I've finally figured out what I'm doing wrong," I say. He insists it's not me, but the girls. That's really only half true, because ultimately, the fault does lie with me. It's all in the choices we make.

I did what was expected of me, so I thought I was on the right track. That's not to say I didn't have a good time. I usually did. It wasn't all horrible. But there was always something missing, though I couldn't have explained exactly what the something was. Having dispatched over half the female student population, though, I know none of them had it.

I just hope I can connect with the one who does have it before that person finds someone else.

"At this rate, I'm going to grow old and die alone like some dried up old Snape. I wonder if I'll ever find the right person."

The ever-sympathetic Harry tries to be positive for my benefit. I swear he says these things without even thinking most of the time. I know he cares, though, so I'm sure he's being sincere.

"I just don't want to die without . . . you know." I hope I don't sound like I'm whining, but really, is it so wrong for someone my age to want something that even in the smallest way resembles a sex life? I don't think it's too much to ask.

I usually hesitate to say things like that around him. Sometimes he embarrasses me so. He once told me that if I were still a virgin when I reached eighteen, that he would have sex with me. He chuckled like he was joking, but I saw the look in his eyes and his knowing smile. It made me shiver. The boy was bloody serious.

"Maybe if I didn't look so much like a Weasley . . .," I wonder, assessing my reflection in the mirror. He doesn't think plastic surgery is appropriate. What's wrong with wanting to improve my odds a little? "Or, I could just fall of my broom accidentally on purpose. Maybe once Pomfrey was finished with me, I'd look better. Different, at the very least. Couldn't hurt, could it?" Hasn't everybody, at one time or another, wanted to change their looks, if only for a little while?

I don't know why I bother asking him for advice, anyway. He hasn't had a date in six months. All he can do is criticize me for who I choose to date. I know, I know. Some of them were a little too young. Okay, a lot too young. He lectured me about it more than once, making liberal use of the word "pervert", as I recall.

"What about the new robes Mum and Dad got me? Are they okay?"

He thinks I need a haircut. When the boy with the most uncooperative hair ever says someone needs a haircut, it's a serious matter. "My hair! I knew it. I look like some hippie freak."

He's trying not to laugh at me. He thinks all of this is quite amusing. He probably thinks I'm doing this just to make him laugh. I'm not, of course. That would be ridiculous. This is serious. I don't want to make a mess of this one.

"Okay, the jeans are a given. They're the only pants I have that are clean. What about the shirt?" He reminds me about the one Mum got me last Christmas. "Right! The black shirt. I forgot about that. I was afraid when she gave it to me it would make me look like a vampire, but you're right. It should look good." I can feel his eyes on me as I peel off my t-shirt and slide into the dress shirt. A quick check in the mirror tells me to leave open the top two buttons. Definitely not wearing a tie tonight.

I don't tell him who I'm going out with anymore, at least not in advance. I stopped shortly after the "pervert" lectures. I certainly don't want him to talk me out of this one, though I doubt he'd try.

"Mind if I snag some of your cologne?" I like this stuff. It smells good on him. Now I know what I can get him next Christmas.

I'm ready, I think. I do a quick turn, hoping he'll give me his honest opinion. "Okay. What do you think? Please tell me I don't look too desperate." He smiles at me, and I smile back.

I really did think about this all afternoon, and I'm pretty sure I'm doing the right thing. He's not the subtlest creature on the planet. His hints are like sledgehammers. I can't possibly have been reading the signs wrong all this time. I know I can be a little thick sometimes, and astonishingly slow to pick up on things, but if I'm wrong about this, I'll kill myself.

And if he says no, I'll kill him.

After all, today is March 1. My birthday.

I'm eighteen.

"Aren't you going to change?" He could at least put on a fresh shirt and some shoes.

The bastard actually had the nerve to look surprised.

~*~*~*~*~* THE END ~*~*~*~*~*


	3. HarryThe Date Chapter 3

Title: A Sympathetic Ear, Chapter 3

Author: RavynFayre

Pairing: Harry/Ron

Rating: PG-13 – two nice boys snogging (each other, that is)

Disclaimer: J. K. Rowling owns these boys, not me - which will be quite obvious once you starting reading!

Summary: Harry has a sympathetic ear, and a possible solution, for Ron's disastrous dating life.

Category: Angst/Romance

I could see Ron was in the midst of a full-blown panic attack, a neon sign flashing over his head: //He said yes! What am I supposed to do now?//

His nervousness made itself more apparent when red splotches appeared suddenly on his freckled cheeks. I smiled, opened the door and bowed slightly, giving a sweeping "after you" gesture. As a smile played only briefly at his lips, a wide-eyed Ron ducked his head and slipped out the door, his hands fidgeting in and out of the pockets of his robe.

I followed him down the stairs, nothing that his eyes were trained on his own shoes. He was so intent on the task of descending the stairs, he nearly collided with Seamus, who was racing up the stairs.

"Careful, Ron!" Seamus called out. "You almost laid me out."

"Sorry," Ron replied, still watching his feet.

"You know how he is at meal time," I said, trying to cover for my friend. "Only one thing on his mind. See you downstairs in a few minutes."

Through the portrait hole and down the corridors toward the Great Hall for dinner, Ron spoke not a word. I could only imagine the internal dialogue Ron must have had with himself before coming to this decision. I only hoped he wasn't second guessing himself now.

During dinner, Ron was unusually quiet and ate almost nothing, instead making colorful patterns as he pushed his food around the plate. Our friends noticed immediately.

"Ron, if you're not going to finish that . . ." Seamus pointed with is fork toward the roast beef.

"Are you not feeling well?" Hermione asked.

"That's disgusting," Neville said. "Eat it or don't, but stop making a mess with your food."

I watched Ron throughout the meal, noticing his trembling hands, the utensils dancing over the plate. I had to rescue him from this. "Finished, mate?" I asked.

When Ron's eyes finally met mine, I could tell he wasn't sure whether he should be relieved, or afraid of what would happen next. "Yeah," Ron replied shakily. He pushed the plate away and rose unsteadily.

"See you later," I said to the others as I followed Ron out of the Hall.

Ron, still visibly shaking, stopped just outside the Hall doors and turned to wait for me. He smiled again nervously and said, "I guess I didn't plan this out as well as I thought."

"It's okay," I said, putting a reassuring arm around his shoulders. "No need to be so worried. It's just me, remember? I'm just Harry."

Ron shook his head. "No. No. This is different," he insisted.

I nodded at the realization. //Everything is different now.// "Maybe you're right," I agreed. "Let's get some fresh air." I steered Ron outside into the gathering twilight.

Dating at Hogwarts has a unique set of problems. While weekends allow for travel to Hogsmeade and a nice variety of restaurants, snack shops and the odd alcove reserved for snogging, during the week, students are confined to the castle and grounds. Options are woefully limited.

Once again, we walked in silence, heading in the general direction of the Quidditch pitch. Ron had opened his robe and shoved his hands in his pants pockets. Shoulders slumped, he studied the ground, sneaking glances at me from the corner of his eye.

While some part of me was secretly enjoying watching Ron squirm, I could also appreciate the courage it took him to take such a leap of faith. I wasn't going to ruin the chance of a lifetime by treating this as a joke.

We reached the Quidditch stands and Ron climbed up, sitting down heavily. I slid onto the seat beside him, watching as Ron's fingers twisted around each other. I placed my hand lightly on his arm.

"I know this was hard for you," I said quietly. "But I'm glad you did it." I sighed contentedly when Ron's hand covered mine.

"Me, too," he said. I felt my heart leap for joy. "I'm sorry about all this. I don't know why I'm so nervous. We've known each other seven years now. I just . . . thought this would be easier somehow."

"Don't be so hard on yourself. You took a big step today, and I can't tell you how happy I am that you took that step in my direction."

We sat in silence for a while, his hand warming mine, which still rested on his arm. "I never thought about being with a guy before," he said quietly, "but when you started hinting about the two of us, it actually made sense."

"I'd really given up on dating myself," I told him. "I just wasn't hitting it off with anybody. I thought about guys, but it just didn't feel right with anybody else. I knew that you were the one person I enjoyed being with all the time, and when you weren't around, I wanted to find you so I could be with you. Trying this did make me worry, though."

"About what?"

"Messing up our friendship. I know I'm the one who started all this, but if you feel like it's not working, please tell me. I'd rather stay friends with you than lose you because I did something stupid."

He laughed, relaxing, I think, for this first time that night. "If either of us is going to do something stupid, it will probably be me."

We never spent so much time *not* talking to each other as we did that night. But we also talked quite a bit, about everything and nothing. Little things that, under different circumstances, would seem trivial, but tonight seemed rather important. Even being best friends, we'd never really told each other *everything*, never wanting to bore each other with the minor details, but tonight was different, the start of something new for us. I wanted to know every little thing about him, and it seemed he felt the same way. Ron became more real to me that night, the tiny little nothings we discussed giving me a much clearer picture of him as a whole person, not just how he fit into my life as my best friend.

As awkwardly as things had begun, I think we both began to enjoy ourselves, and hesitated when the time came to go inside. We trudged back to the tower, knowing curfew was coming up any minute. We called our goodbyes to our housemates still studying in the Common Room and made our way upstairs.

Ron closed the door behind us and leaned against it. "Thank you for tonight, Harry. It was the best birthday ever."

"This weekend we can do some *real* celebrating at Hogsmeade."

"What do you mean? Tonight was great, really." He looked at me sheepishly. "Because I got to spend it with you." If his cheeks weren't already flushed from the cool night air, I know I'd be seeing him blush.

"I'm glad you feel that way. So do I."

"I'm going to get ready for bed."

"Wait a minute, Ron. There is one more thing," I said, trying to be casual. Trust me, when you *try* to be casual, it never comes out that way. "After all, it is your birthday."

His smile faded. The panic was setting in again. "I-I . . . we . . .but, Harry! This was just our first date!"

"Oh, Ron, no," I replied hastily. He'd actually remembered that! "Not that, no. It's not that. I just wondered if . . . could I kiss you?"

He relaxed, only a little, looking momentarily confused, but also intrigued. "Is it terribly different? From kissing a girl, I mean?"

"I don't know," I answered honestly. "I've never kissed a guy before. I'm pretty sure it works the same way, though." I smiled, but worried at his hesitation. I didn't want to push him into anything he wasn't ready for. "If you don't want to, it's okay. You won't hurt my feelings." Actually he would, terribly, but I'd have to get over it.

"It's not that I don't want to," he insisted. "I just . . . don't want to do it wrong."

"Look at it this way. I've never done it before either, so I won't know if you're doing it wrong."

"Right," he nodded. He didn't move, though. This whole thing was my idea, so I was going to have to do the hard work, making the first move. I'm so pathetic. *I* should have planned this out better.

Ron was still leaning against our door, no doubt needing the support. He'd probably be a puddle on the ground, left on his own. I grabbed my wand and crossed back over to the door, casting a quick privacy spell. "Just in case," I said. He nodded vigorously in agreement. I stood there watching him, not at all sure how to go about this. I got closer, little by little. My heart was thundering in my chest, I just knew he could hear it. My hands were shaking and I clenched them into fists, trying to hide them in the billowing arms of my robe. He stared, eyes wide. The flush hadn't left his cheeks, but instead, had crept down his neck. He looked as if he'd spent all afternoon in the sun.

Finally, when I was as close as I could be without stepping on him, I reached out slowly, my hands going to his waist. I pulled him away from the door, toward me, his body against mine. I'd never been this close to him before in all these years. Not like this, at least. We'd hugged each other, sure, but definitely not like this. It felt so strange, but so good. He was breathing hard, I could feel it against my ear, since he'd already tilted his head a little to the right. I slipped my glasses off and into my pocket, tilting my own head. I think he wanted this as much as I did, since he leaned down to me. He had to, being about half a head taller than I am. I could taste his breath now, warm puffs across my lips. I licked my lips and he did the same. We both gave a quick smile and then, oh, I hope I can find the right words. So soft, much softer than I imagined. And yes, I had imagined what it would be like to kiss Ron. I took his bottom lip, kneading it gently with my own, tracing it with the tip of my tongue. I hadn't noticed where his hands were until I felt him gripping my upper arms. I tried to slip my tongue into his mouth, and with a little prodding, he let me. His lips were still a little cold from the night air, but the inside of his mouth was warm and inviting. I pulled him to me, not realizing we could get any closer.

I didn't want to lose this moment. I wanted to stay here with him forever, his one hand with its fingers running through my hair, the other holding me to him. This kiss seemed at once to go on forever, but it ended too soon. Gasping for air, our lips parted. But our bodies remained pressed together. I shivered, enjoying this new intimacy. I leaned against him, hoping he could hold me up. My legs felt like jelly.

"That didn't feel wrong at all," I whispered. "You did just fine." I couldn't move. Didn't want to.

"Mmmm," he replied, still trying to catch his breath. "You, too."

"What do we do now?" I wondered, surprised when I realized I'd spoken aloud.

"I think we should go to bed." He must have felt me smile against his chest as he added rather quickly, "To sleep, you git. Is that all you think about?"

"I'm seventeen years old, Ron. What else is there to think about?" He kissed me then, wanting to shut me up, no doubt. When we parted again, I told him, "If sleeping is what I'm supposed to do now, you should know that that didn't help very much."

"Shut up, Harry," he chuckled, pushing me toward my bed. "Goodnight."

"Happy birthday, Ron."

This was one birthday I was going to remember. And it wasn't even mine.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*


End file.
